


Genesis

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Not Human, Angel Sam Winchester, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Dean Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Gordon Being an Asshole, Gordon Walker (Supernatural) - Freeform, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Nephilim, Protective Dean Winchester, Sort of (again), Torture, Wingfic, Wings, as always, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 16:18:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1353811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. After the world's near-miss with the apocalypse, the supernatural has been publicly recognized, and hunting is now a legal, if heavily regulated profession. On a job at the request of Castiel, Dean finds himself involved in a situation much larger than the average hunt, and he soon discovers something lost from his own past that forces him to change his views on the creatures he hunts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic, so I hope you'll bear with me.
> 
> This will be a creature!Sam fic, probably a wingfic
> 
> The pairing in this story is still undetermined; it may eventually have a proper pairing, but for now it will remain gen.
> 
> This story is set after many events canon in the show, but with one major difference: Sam will not have been present in the referenced events from the show or the Winchester's lives.
> 
> Warnings: This story is rated due to some semi-strong language and some descriptions of violence. possible trigger warnings due to references to past torture and the after effects of the aforementioned.
> 
> Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, nor am I making a profit from any of this. Hats off to Kripke and crew for giving us such a fantastic sandbox to fool around in.
> 
> ~This will contain references to Biblical events, particularly from the Old Testament. I have taken a heap of creative liberties and changed things around to serve the story. This was not meant to be a tampering or desecration of scripture, simply as a backbone (more like a notochord really) for some elements in my writing.

23 days, 12 hours. That was roughly how long it had been since Dean's last hunt. After day eight, he had taken to sleeping in the back seat of the impala; it may not be overly comfortable, but it was cheap. With hunts running low the past few months, he couldn't really afford much hotel time.

Even being one of the best in the hunting network, Dean was still having a hard time. Usually the Administration or one of his contacts would have set him up with a gig by now, but there weren't many monsters to be heard of at this point. 

During the time before he began hunting alone, his father had warned him multiple times about the fluctuations in the business. Sometimes, usually only once a decade or so, monsters would become more active, and provide a sudden influx of hunts.

No one was sure why this cycle happened, they had begun around a hundred years ago; but the need for good hunters caused a welcome surge in business. However, after all those jobs were over and the monster population was beaten back, there was a period of stagnation. For some reason, after these "bubbles" occurred, it was as if most of the supernatural entities left went into hiding. 

The lack of jobs made it difficult for many hunters to keep themselves afloat, and every time it happened a handful of Dean's fellow hunters would drop off the map. Some of the few names to disappear after the last fluctuation were people he recognized as contacts of his dad's. 

The last time Dean had heard from his father, John had been closing in on the demon responsible for Mary Winchester's death. John didn't make it out of that confrontation, but the demon hadn't either. That had been nearly 4 years ago; he had time to adjust, but that road of thinking was still something of an open wound. 

Now, Dean was 27 years old, on his own, with a long list of contacts and a very impressive résumé for a hunter his age. 

He ran a hand down his face, sighed, and sat up from his cramped position on the Impala's back seat. Opening the door of the sleek black classic, he got out and leaned against her side. 

"Just you and me Baby," he muttered, stretching his neck, " just like always." 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Several hundred miles of uneventful blacktop later, his phone rang.

"You got a minute?"

He immediately recognized the gruff voice on the other end of the call. "Bobby? Didn't expect to hear from you this soon."

"Yeah,well, I found you a gig."

"Really?" He asked, interested. Anything to get him out of bumfuck nowhere Wyoming would be fine by him.

Dean heard a huff on the other end if the line. "Would I be callin' you if I didn't?"

He grunted at that, adjusting his grip on the Impala's steering wheel. "So what's the job?"

"It wouldn't hurt to make contact other than gettin' jobs you know," Bobby groused, " I don't think it'd kill you to check in every now and again." Dean opened his mouth to reply with his usual excuses, but the older hunter just talked over him. "Anyways, Cas showed up yesterday, said some important demon is stirring up the water, wants you to help him look into it."

Dean raised an eyebrow. Cas usually came straight to him with jobs. But then again, with the sigils on his ribs, angels couldn't find him without some serious overtime. "Cas showed up at your place? Did he forget how to use his cell phone?"

"He said this thing, whatever it is, is big. Said he thought the demons may have had somebody watching him, and something about phones not being secure enough." 

Dean responded with a sarcastic,"Aren't we using phones now?"

He could practically hear Bobby's eye roll. "Yeah, well, I don't exactly have any other method of gettin' to ya, so I figured I'd just tell you something was up. So now that that information is passed, where the hell are you anyways?"

Glancing down the road for any signs, Dean took a moment to reply "somewhere in Wyoming, I think a couple hours out of Casper. I could be at your place in around two days."

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pulling into the salvage yard 48 hours later, Dean dragged himself out of the Impala and worked his stiff muscles. Grabbing his duffel bag from the trunk, he strode to the porch and found Bobby waiting for him. Recognizing the small flask the older man held out, Dean immediately took it and swallowed a mouthful of holy water. "Really Bobby." He said,"We still doin' this?" He also took the small silver knife offered, making a small cut on the inside of his forearm. "We done with the formalities now?"

The older hunter adjusted his faded cap, a small,wry smile marking his weathered face. " 'Bout time you got your ass back here," he grumbled,stepping aside and waving Dean into the house, "What took you so damn long?"

Dean laughed and shuffled his way inside. " Nice to know you missed me."

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I would've thought Cas would be here by now,"Bobby muttered, appearing in the study with a cup of coffee in hand,"hope he hasn't run into any problems."

Dean eyed the coffee, looking up from the leather-bound text he was going through as he lounged on the couch." Well, I've done the whole praying gig already, so other than actually doing a summons I think we're just gonna have to wait a bit for him to get his feathered ass down here. Oh,Thanks." He took the mug Bobby held out to him with a nod,"I'll probably be needing this."

A snort came from the older man. "When do you ever not need it?"

"Very funny." Dean's eyes drifted back to the worn pages in front of him, and he heard Bobby begin rummaging around on his desk. "Did Cas give you any information other than a demon getting rowdy?" he asked. "Any specifics? I think it would be helpful to actually know what we're dealing with, I mean-"

"Dean."

Both hunters turned around abruptly at the new voice.

"Cas," Dean greeted, " 'bout time you showed up."


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so here's the next chapter. The next one should be up before the week is up.

"I came as soon as I could. There is still unrest in Heaven among those who sympathized with Zachariah." The angel gave an acknowledging nod to Bobby in greeting, then turned back to Dean. "I am afraid that the demon who had been brought to my attentions is planning something of a large scale. Larger than what we are accustomed to dealing with."

Dean's brow furrowed, and he and Bobby shared a look. "And that means what, exactly?"

Castiel took a moment to reply. "This demon has been imprisoning creatures. We are not sure of her intent, but we believe that she has been using their souls as a source of power."

"How does that work?" Dean asked, "Don't the souls of monsters go straight to purgatory when they are killed?"

Bobby glanced at Dean. "Yeah, but there's several rituals to keep that from happening. I can't say I know of any that will absorb a souls energy directly though."

The angel nodded. "Whatever ritual she has been using allows her transfer the power from the souls into her own."

Bobby frowned. "How powerful of a demon are we talking here?"

The angel turned to the older hunter. "I assume both of you have noticed the strange cycle of monster populations in the past century?"

Both of the hunters shared a glance and nodded.

"Are you saying this demon is behind them?" Dean asked. "How powerful is this thing?"

"Quite powerful," Castiel said, "but the demons power fades with time. We do have that advantage."

"Higher level demons ain't no picnic to take down if they're gassed up on souls or not," cut in Bobby, "and given the obvious scale of the operation, there's gotta be a load of lower level demons to reckon with too."

Castiel blinked and shifted his weight to one side, the collar of his trench coat slipping slightly. "I believe that those still loyal to our cause will be able to take care of the majority of them, but I would greatly appreciate your help in the matter of taking down this particular demon."

"If this demon is having to repeat her ritual to collect the souls every ten years or so, don't we still have a good three years to wait until this thing's power drains off?" Bobby asked, crossing his arms.

Cas shook his head. "The demon has been very active these past few months, this is what drew our attention to her; she has lost much of the power gained from the last ritual. We have had some of our soldiers looking into the matter of the population shifts since they began, but until now this demon has kept herself well warded against detection."

Dean shifted his position and ran a hand down his face. "If this bitch is behind all of the weird supernatural population issues, how is she even causing them? It's not like this demon could just..." He paused for a second, searching for the right word. "She couldn't just compel the monsters to suddenly start breeding, right?"

"There is another ritual we believe her to be using,this one very old and very..." He paused for a second, looking a bit uncomfortable."Costly. This one allows her to open a gate to purgatory."

Bobby's eyes widened as he recognized the spell Castiel was referencing. " How's she finding a sacrificial soul strong enough for that? Everything I have on it says the soul needs to be 'a son of God.' That's an angel, right?"

Castiel sighed. "She has not had access to an angels soul for almost twenty years. I..I do not know where she has been finding souls powerful enough to use in this ritual, but this simply reinforces our need to eliminate her soon."

Silence filled the room as the two hunters took in the weight of their discussion with the angel.

"Well," Dean said slowly, "where do we start?"

________________

Dean was sharpening his demon killing blade in the basement later that evening when Bobby trudged down the stairs.

"What do you think about calling in a few other hunters for this one," he asked, "maybe Ellen and Rufus?"

Dean looked up from his blade. "Uh... I guess it couldn't hurt. Is Ellen hunting again? After, you know...I thought she quit the business and was running a new roadhouse?"

Bobby nodded in understanding. Ellen's daughter Jo had been killed by hellhounds a few years ago. "Yeah. She called me looking for a hunt about a month ago. Said she needed some time away from the crowds at the bar."

Dean huffed. " Yeah, it'd be nice to have a few others at our back I guess. Any others in mind?"

"Well,like i said, Ellen, Rufus, and maybe Gordon or Garth. I'll see if either of them are anywhere in the area. Where'd Cas say the demon was exactly? Kansas?"

Pausing a moment before he answered, Dean nodded. "Yeah. He said she was holed up someplace outside of Kansas City."

Bobby scowled. The entire state of Kansas held dark memories for the hunters. Hosting the site of the near-apocalypse would do things to any state's reputation, not to mention the Winchester's own family history. "Well I guess we had better get a move on in the next couple of days then."

Dean nodded absently and went back to taking care of the weapon in front of him. Bobby gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment before turning to go back up the stairs to the main house, but he was stopped by a loud exclamation and the sound of a knife clattering to the floor.

"Dammit Cas!"

Turning sharply, the older hunter huffed out a chuckle as he saw Dean glaring daggers at the newly appeared angel.

" I apologize," Castiel said tonelessly, " It was not my intention to startle you."

Dean sighed heavily and bent to retrieve the fallen weapon. "You can't just do that to people." He hissed under his breath, running a hand through his short crop of hair. "You're lucky you didn't end up with this stuck in your face."

The angel tilted his head slightly. "I have apologized, is there something else I need to do?"

"Yeah," Dean snapped, "Quit popping out of nowhere and giving me damn freakin' heart attacks!"

"There is nothing wrong with the rhythm of your heart."

Bobby snorted at the expression on Dean's face.

Castiel blinked and a flicker of understanding crossed his face. "That was not meant as a literal statement."

Dean twitched a smile at that. "The terminator is finally learning," he quipped. "You have any more info for us on this demon?"

"Yes. We have gathered some idea of the number of lower level demons working under her. My own followers will be able to eliminate the vast majority, but it may be wise for you to enlist the help of a few trustworthy hunters as well."

"That should work," Bobby spoke up, "We were thinkin' about calling a few others to watch our asses."

Castiel nodded. "Good. Our forces are already rallying, we should be ready for an assault within the next four days. After we have cleared the most of demons, I will return and accompany you to confront their leader."

Dean's jaw tightened a bit. "It'll be a stretch to get ready on such short notice. Bobby?"

"I gotta call in a few favors," the elder hunter said, "but we might could do it."

Turning to the angel, Dean asked, "Do we have a name for this thing yet?"

"Yes. Her name is Zenesre."

"Alright then, first things first." Picking up his knife and moving towards the stairs, Dean looked over his shoulder at the other two occupants of the basement. "Bobby, you can make some phone calls, and I'll get started on stocking the arsenal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's the first proper chapter. As I said, any mistakes are my own; if there any painfully obvious things I've managed to miss, please be so kind as to let me know how I'm doing.
> 
> any and all feedback is greatly appreciated, so don't be afraid to drop me a line
> 
> ~thanks!~


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here be chapter 3- my apologies again for the delay, I've decided to update this story once a week on Sundays until I get farther ahead.
> 
> All mistakes are my own. Special thanks to the one who helps me get my thoughts in line and all around inspires me- you know who you are!

Three days later saw Dean Winchester sitting around the table in his and Bobby's shared hotel room with four other hunters. Bobby was on his left, the older man had just gotten up to grab a few more beers, Ellen was on his right, and Gordon was sitting across from him. There was a map lying on the center of the table with a few scratches of red sharpie marking where their target and potential approaches were.

"Alright," Bobby said gruffly, settling down in his chair again and speaking over the low drone of idle hunter's talk. "Let's get down to business."

The small talk ended abruptly and Bobby gestured to Dean. He blinked at the other hunters who were now watching him; it took him a moment, but he realized that he had been unofficially placed in the role of leader.

"Oh, uh.. Right. Ok, so Zenesre is holed up here," he picked up the previously discarded sharpie and poked one of the red marks on the map. "She has some lower level underlings we've got to go through to get to her, but Cas and his guys upstairs should be able to take them out." Dean moved the pen as he spoke and stabbed it at another point on the large paper. "We are here right now, so tomorrow, after Cas gives us the all clear, we'll have about a three hour drive."

When we get there, the lower level demons will be gone, so we just have to meet up with Cas and take down Zenesre. Ellen and Gordon, uh, I want you to hang back when we go in; watch out for our asses, just in case anything was missed. After Zenesre's gone, well comb back over the complex. We need to keep an eye out for human survivors, there's usually some back up hosts present where there's lots of demons."

When were on our way in and out, we'll be taking this highway until we get to here,"he said, following a small road on the map with his marker,"and then we branch off onto this access road that will take us to the compound. We should be good to come back the same way, but if we think there's a chance of being followed, there's another road here," he trailed the end of the pen along the map at another spot close by, "where we should be able to lose any tails."

Dean looked at Bobby after he was done, referring to the older hunter to make sure he hadn't missed anything. They had polished over over the plan with Cas the day before, but Gordon had gotten to the rendezvous point in Kansas City later than expected, so they had to postpone the meeting. Bobby was still a bit sore over that; he had never particularly liked nor trusted the other hunter, but Gordon could sure as hell kill things.

"Sounds about right." He said, nodding. "If we take this route," he pointed to the second line Dean had traced, " we'll be able to lose followers in all the little access roads branching off of it. It's pretty damn winding too, so that'll help."

"Why not just nuke the place?"

Everyone turned to Gordon, who had spoken.

"After all," he drawled, leaning back and crossing his arms," If your angel buddies take out the demons, we could just wipe the whole place off the map. Nice and clean, we don't have to mop up any messes afterwards; no monsters to sort through and dispatch."

Dean glared at the hunter across the table from him. He had only worked with the man once before, and that had been several years ago, but he had already rediscovered his immense dislike for the brash hunter. A quick glance at the lines on Bobby's face told him that he felt the same way.

"We can't just nuke the place you moron," Bobby hissed, bristling. "Didn't you hear that there are humans there?"

"Not all monsters hurt people," Ellen pitched in, also fixing the man with a steely gaze. "The Administration has regulated what breeds we can't kill because they're not harmful to society. By law we have to check these things out now."

Gordon scowled. "I have a few contacts that could arrange for it to go unnoticed. We wouldn't even have to go to the complex, I'll just make a few quick calls and we'll be on our way outta this mess."

"Dammit Gordon!" Bobby snapped, his palm coming down on the table, "We haven't even properly gotten started yet an you're already throwin' around half-assed plans of your own! I don't know if you've realized, but we're on a time crunch for this job, and we've already got a method that works; we can't afford to have some yahoo workin' out of his mamma's basement try and blow the place up!" He hissed angrily.

A leering grin crept across Gordon's face and he raised his hands submissively. "Whatever you say," he said, his tone a bit mocking, "just trying to make our lives easier is all."

"Sure as hell you are." Bobby muttered under his breath, soft enough that only Dean had heard.

Ellen watched the exchange with a disapproving air, her mouth in a thin line. "You kids want to stop your arguing so we can get a move on?"

Dean shot the woman a thankful look. "Cas should show up with news of how his side of the operation goes tomorrow," he offered, watching the other two men were giving each other guarded stares. "I think we should give everything another once over, check our weapons, pack up a bit and then find some grub."

Ellen, bless her, Dean thought, nodded enthusiastically. "Sounds good to me, let's get a move on boys."

"Ellen, you got the med kits?" Bobby called, his head buried in one of his duffel bags.

"Yeah, what do you want me to do with them?"

The man straightened, scratching his neck with one hand. "I figured you could throw them all in your cab, make your truck our ambulance."

"That's good with me. How many survivors do you think we'll find?" she asked quietly, leaving off the "if any" at the end of her question."Think we need any blankets or anything? I have a few in the back."

Bobby nodded. "I don't know," he replied, "and yeah, wouldn't hurt to drag those along."

He crossed the room to where Dean and Gordon were cleaning weapons on the beds. "How's it coming over here?"

Dean looked up from his pile of arms, which was bigger than Gordon's on, Dean suspected, the account that none of them trusted him quite enough to give him their better guns.

"Almost finished with these," he said, gesturing to a few handguns laying out on the bedspread. "Then I'll move on to the sawed-offs."

"Alright, good. Gordon?"

The man set aside a pistol he'd just finished reassembling and flashed a cocky grin at the older man. "Not bad, but I could use a few beers. When're we planning to hit the town?"

Any good humor Bobby might have had at this time evaporated at the mockingly light tone the other hunter used.

Dean wondered why Bobby had even asked him along, it was clear he couldn't stand him. Gordon seemed to go out of his way to push Bobby's buttons, and they'd had another disagreement earlier that day. Gordon had pressed his idea of nuking the compound regardless of any after effects, and Bobby probably would have blown him away if it weren't for Ellen.

Figuring that the two men's veiled dislike for each other was probably why he had so little experience hunting with Gordon, Dean's lip twitched upward wryly as he speculated on how well the man would have gotten along with his father. Sighing, he finished the gun he was working on and set it aside.

As he looked out the window, he thought it must be nearly dinner time. Apparently his stomach agreed with him, as it suddenly let out a rumbling growl. The stiff atmosphere in the room dissolved a bit and the scowl on Bobby's face loosened.

"I'll help you finish up here and then we'll go get something to eat," he said, grabbing a shotgun from the dwindling pile of not yet serviced firearms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 should be up Sunday, thanks for reading-
> 
> any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!
> 
> ~Thanks!~


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is the next chapter. Special thanks to followers and those who have reviewed!
> 
> All mistakes are my own. Special thanks to the one who helps me get my thoughts in line and all around inspires me- you know who you are!
> 
> Warnings: see first chapter
> 
> Disclaimer: see first chapter

The next morning was stressful, to say the least. Dean was woken early by a heated argument between Bobby and Gordon. The two men were standing in the doorway of the motel room; Dean couldn't make out their words due to the low volume of the dispute, but from the discernible tone of the voices and what he could see of their faces, both men were he moved to get up, Bobby spat something that sounded suspiciously like "Christo", leading to Gordon firing back a snide remark, and Bobby responded by shutting the door in the other man's face.

Turning around and facing the room, he sighed heavily and dragged a hand down his face. When he saw dean, he cracked a tired smile. "'Bout time you got up sleeping beauty; I was beginning to think I might have to kiss you."

Dean huffed and stumbled to his duffel bag in search of fresh clothes. "What was that about?"

Scowling, the other man answered. "Gordon called his demolitions expert friend. He keeps pushing for his 'blow up everything' plan."

Dean pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it on top of his bag. "Why is he even here," he asked, digging for clean clothes. "If he's such an asshole, why call him?"

"Because he's available," Bobby grunted,"and he can kill things damn effectively if he doesn't have his head up his ass."

Huffing out a laugh, dean rolled his eyes and pulled on his fresh t-shirt. "Let's hope he pulls it out quick then," he muttered, grabbing his jeans.

Bobby snorted and made his way to the coffee machine sputtering on the counter top of the small kitchenette. "Yeah let's hope." He stopped the coffee maker's drip and grabbed a styrofoam cup off of the stack next to the machine. "I'm assuming you want coffee?"

"Do I ever not?" Dean fired back, buttoning his pants and moving towards the inevitable pull of caffein. "I can't believe you still ask," he griped,"You've known me since I was like, 7."

Bobby cracked a grin and handed Dean a cup of his own. "Idjit." Looking his watch, Bobby raised an eyebrow. "We'd better get goin'; make any last minute checks we need to."

As Dean took a generous swig of the coffee, he sputtered. "This stuff tastes like asphalt," he exclaimed, glaring down at the dark liquid, "how the hell do you call this coffee?"

Bobby shot him a steely look. "I you don't like it, you don't have to drink it." That being said, the elder hunter turned and walked to his bag, slinking it over his shoulder and exiting the room.

Giving his "coffee" one last dark look, Dean swallowed the bitter liquid down and threw his empty cup in the trash. Grabbing up his own already prepared bag for the mission, he headed out the door after Bobby.

Ellen was outside as well, stuffing several first aid kits under the back seat of her truck. Bobby was loading his own vehicle; Dean could see him rearranging several boxes of salt rounds on the floorboards. Gordon had not yet emerged from his room.

Walking across the motel's parking lot to the impala, Dean opened the back passenger door and stuffed his duffel bag inside. After getting his bag situated, he opened the trunk, taking care to make sure that no civilians could see into it from the surrounding lot or the windows of the motel rooms. It was force if habit mostly, ever since hunting became a widely recognized profession there was no need to hide, but hunters still had the authorities called on them regularly due to their arsenals. Propping the trunk open with a discretely placed shotgun, Dean made sure everything he needed for this job was placed neatly and where he could get at it.

"Dean?" That was Bobby. "You got any extra consecrated iron rounds?"

"Consecrated iron?" He called over his shoulder, "I think so..." Rummaging around a bit, he found a box of rounds he though the could spare and waved it at Bobby. " 'This be enough?"

The older man trotted over to the impala and took the box, opening it and eyeing it's contents quickly. "Yeah that should do it." He happened to glance over the weapons and ammo packing the hidden space in the bottom of the trunk, and he raised an eyebrow. "What the hell ya idjit, you ain't got any cuffs?"

It was Dean's turn to act surprised. "Uh...No, dad never did see the point in em; we never really took jobs that required bringing monsters in alive so we never had much use for them. Guess I still haven't had need enough to scrounge up a pair."

Bobby hummed in his throat and adjusted his cap. "Tell you what, In case we do need to drag any critters back with us, I'll trade you a set for the ammo."

Dean shrugged. He didn't want to bring any monsters back in his car. Baby would never forgive him. He figured that Bobby would push the issue though, so he just shrugged his shoulders.

"Alright then." The older man said, turning away and walking back to his own vehicle.

"Hey Dean-o," Gordon called, emerging from his room. "Any word on your angel?"

His hackles automatically raised by the use of a belittling nickname, Dean didn't even turn around to dignify an answer.

"Hey, come on now," the drawling voice was much closer now. "There's no need to be that way, I'm just asking if you've had any word from on high."

Huffing out a sigh and closing the Impala's trunk, Dean answered. "No, I haven't heard anything yet." He deflected further commenting by asking a question of his own. "Do you have the stuff for drawing the devils' traps?"

"Sure do," Gordon replied, patting the backpack he had slung over one shoulder. "That's what I'm here for, right? I also have that extra ammo and salt Singer wanted; Gordon's supply train, at your service." The last part was said with a noticeable dash of sarcasm and a mocking half-bow.

Dean was not impressed, and made his way back towards his room with ought another word to the standoffish hunter. He made a quick detour to grab the promised cuffs from Bobby, then moved to the door. Once inside their shared room, he made another check to make sure he had everything ready to head out. Satisfied, he tucked his favorite pistol and the demon blade into the waistband of his jeans and shrugged on his leather jacket.

Bobby came through the door a moment later, the dark look on his scruffy face inevitably telling of another clash with Gordon. Before Dean could open his mouth to ask however, the older hunter had made his way to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

Dean huffed and rolled his eyes; Bobby had certainly gotten more irritable since they began working with Gordon. He hoped that Ellen would be able to defuse the tension between them, she seemed to be doing a pretty good job of it already. huffing out a short, wry laugh at the mental image of the smallish woman trying to hold a raging Bobby back from killing Gordon while on their hunt, Dean looked out the window absently. Ellen was now folding blankets and stuffing them under the back seat of her truck, next to the med kits.

Dean heard a slight sound behind him and turned around, expecting to see Bobby out of the bathroom and shuffling around making any needed last minute preparations. Instead of finding the gruff older man puttering around as he initially thought, he started when he found a stoic angel standing stiffly within his personal bubble.

"Dammit Cas," he hissed loudly, "what have I told you about personal space?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 should be up next Sunday, thanks for reading-
> 
> any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!
> 
> ~Thanks!~


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the next chapter. Sorry for updating late, a few things I had neglected in other areas of my life caught up with me.
> 
> *notices lateness*
> 
> *throws chapter*
> 
> *dives back into pit of darkness*
> 
> for disclaimers and warnings, see the first chapter

Chapter 4

The old warehouse the demon was holed up in was huge, and as the hunters began unloading their vehicles, Dean found himself increasingly thankful for the fact that the angels had already taken down the vast majority of Zenesre's underlings. Dragging a box of salt rounds from the trunk and filling his pockets, the hunter rummaged through the Impala's arsenal and picked out the weapons he had set aside to take with him; a second pistol was tucked into his waistband, and an extra knife found it's way into his boot. The other three hunters were similarly armed with pistols, sawed-offs, and knives of their own.

Castiel had appeared in the passenger seat of the Impala about thirty minutes out from their destination, and aside from the slight fishtailing of the car, Dean thought he was able to take the angel's sudden appearance quite well, thank you very much. Before they entered the complex, they went over the plan one more time.

"Alright, Cas," Dean started, "you said your guys have cleared out the top two floors of this place, and Zenesre should be on the third, right?"

The angel nodded. "We were careful. If our timing is right, she will not be expecting us."

"Ok good. Since most of the demons are cleared, we shouldn't really have to be too cautious until we get the the third floor down, but we still shouldn't drop our guard."

The other hunters nodded, though Gordan was still looking disgruntled from his earlier disagreements with Bobby.

Dean nodded once at the group slowly. They were ready. "Whatever fugglies the demon's been hoarding should be on the fourth floor down, so after we gank this bitch we can go down there and deal with them."

After a few more short words and a double check of their weapons, the small group moved towards the doors. As they slipped inside, Dean readied his pistol and curled his left hand around the handle of his demon blade. "Gordon, you and I will go in first," he said softly, looking around the dim hallway they had entered. "Cas, you come after us incase we need your angel mojo; Bobby and Ellen, cover our backs."

Now in position, they eased forward. Dean and Gordon quietly pushed open any doors branching off if the main hall, finding mostly empty, dilapidated rooms that were probably used for storage once upon a time. The top floor of the warehouse complex was practically deserted; any untrained personel who entered would have believed it to have been empty for years. A few bodies, the shells of hosts left behind by demons who had most likely patrolled the ground floor, told the hunters a different story.

Finding the stairwell that led to the lower levels, Dean signaled to Castiel "How many living demons do you think we've got to watch out for?" he asked in a low voice, eying the dark passage before them."You think they've found the ones you offed on the upper floors yet?"

"It is unlikely," the angel said, looking down at the grimy stairs leading deeper into the complex's belly. "The demon's patrols are small, and get less frequent on the lower levels. They have become somewhat to comfortable with their own suspected power. However, it would be extremely unwise to ignore caution."

"Alright then," Dean muttered, shifting the grip he had on his gun. "You heard the man, let's get going."

For the second floor, they split into two groups, Dean and Bobby covered the rooms and halls to the left, Gordon, Ellen and Castiel to the right. This floor was also seemingly abandoned, though Dean's group alone discovered the corpses of eight hosts. By the time they had gone through all the halls, Dean was feeling almost desperate to find a living human. Doubling back to the stairs, the hunters regrouped and prepared for the third floor; on the two floors, a total of 14 dead humans had been found. Not one had survived demonic possession. The group continued to the stairs in grim silence.

A moment later, Castiel spoke up, saying Dean's name to catch his attention.

"Yeah?" Dean replied absently, turning back to the angel, though his eyes were still resolutely fixed on the stairwell.

"I can go no further with you, the levels below here have been warded." He tilted his head slightly. "Did I not warn you of this before?"

Dean sighed. "Yeah, you told us. I guess we'll be managing on our own from now on, then."

_____________________________________________________

There were only four guards on the third floor; two groups of two. One milled around the halls under the pretense of vigilance, and the other was stationed outside of what Dean suspected was Zenesre's main place of operation. It was sort of sad really, how overconfident this demon seemed to be; the patrols on the first and second floors had been eliminated nearly an hour ago, and none of the hell-spawn on this level even suspected.

The demons that were supposed to be patrolling were easy targets, and as there were only two of them, it made the hunter's lives significantly less difficult. Dean and Gordon were able to dispatch one of them by stealth, creeping up behind it's male host and driving Dean's knife deep into it's shoulder. The second demon was substantially more of a chore. It became apparent, once the demon realized they were there, that the demons present on the lower floor of the complex were higher up in the food chain than most of what Dean was used too.

The remaining demon's eyes flickered briefly to a sickening shade of amber, and it's face contorted in a snarl. It had managed to throw Gordon into an old filing cabinet before he could react, and as the man thudded to the ground, Dean was thankful that they were in one of the hallways farthest from the office; they had briefly scoped out the entire floor before waiting for the patrol in a secluded area. Once Gordon had dragged himself to his feet, he and Dean, the only two hunters visible to the demon at the moment, backed up into the hall. Where they were now, there was only a wall behind them; for all purposes, they were cornered.

The Demons face split into a dark grin. "You can't just go around poking your flimsy little knives into everything hunter," it spat. "Some things will poke back."

Before either of them had a chance to react, Dean found himself pinned to the wall, and his knife clattered across the floor and towards the demon. "Dammit" he hissed painfully; he could practically feel his innards beginning to press against the back of his ribs. Through bleary eyes get could see Gordon in a similar position.

Come on Bobby.

The demon took a few steps forward, bending down and leisurely picking up the knife Dean had dropped when it threw him.

Just a few more feet, Dean thought, Please keep moving,damn you.

The creature tutted. "Well well, what a naughty hunter you are. Where'd you get this, hmm?" It turned the knife over in it's hand, and the serrated metal glinted coldly in the dim half-light of the hall. "I've only known a handful of our kind considered worthy to hold a blade like this..." It grimaced and it's eyes glinted a reddish orange again. "Last one I can think of was Ruby... Tell me," it continued, obviously enjoying the two hunters fruitless struggling and it's chance to flaunt it's power over them. " Did you know that Jake had to screw her to get it?"

Now would be a good time, Bobby!, Dean mentally shouted, still unable to speak due to the invisible pressure on his throat. His eyes involuntarily flicked to the side room where Bobby and Ellen were hiding, the doorway several meters behind the demon, before traveling back to the monster in question.

The demon kept going." After he died, I hear she stuck around for a while..." It's mocking gaze turned once again to Dean. "Did you have to fuck her for this too? Seems a steep price for anyone's ego to pay for a trinket like this."

"Singer!" Gordon grated out, managing to get his vocal chords working, "get your ass in here!"

The Demon stiffened as the hunter's cover was blown, whipping around right as a strategically thrown brick left Ellen's hand and hit it square in the chest. Staggering backward, the demon flung out a hand towards the newly appeared hunters, only to freeze when nothing happened.

Behind the demon, Dean and Gordon were picking themselves up off the floor, breathing heavily. Dean sent a tired grin up towards the devil's trap drawn of the ceiling. Those things were awesome. "Tell us about Zenesre." He demanded, still out of breath and straightening up fully. "Why is she harvesting the souls of monsters?"

The demon bared it's teeth. "As if I would tell you. You hunters are so conceited."

"You're sure one to talk," Ellen huffed.

"I'll ask you one more time," Dean said grimly. "Then it's back to the pit with you."

The creature'a eyes widened a fraction before it's fear was masked by another show of belligerence. "I'll just claw my way back out. Apparently, I'll have a grudge to take care of when I do... And even if you die before I can get free, I'll just be there waiting for you." To punctuate it's less then threatening threat, the demon flung Dean's knife at Ellen, who simply sidestepped and let it fly past her.

His lips quirking, Dean retrieved it and turned back to the demon. "Sorry, but I never said I was sending you back to hell." Saying that, he stepped quickly into the space of the devil' strap and sunk the knife into the demon's belly. It's hate filled eyes burned into Dean with a startling fury, before slowly going dark.

"Why'd you do that ya moron?" Bobby asked gruffly," We didn't get any information from that thing whatsoever! Not to mention we have zero chance of gettin' any now."

Dean shook his head and wiped his knife off on the demon's clothes. " Nah," he said. "We wouldn't have gotten anything out of that bastard. He was too much of a dick to give us any dirt on Zenesre anyways."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again I apologize profusely for the late update. As usual, I'll do my best to get the next chapter up by Sunday.
> 
> also, Sam should finally make his appearance late in the chapter. (how did i set out to write a story that practically revolves around him and then manage to not have him show his face until chapter five seriously)
> 
> Anyways, don't be afraid to let me know how I'm doing
> 
> ~Thanks!~


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it's certainly been much longer than I expected between this chapter and the last, and I realize that there really isn't and excuse that can make it up to my dear readers. I have learned my lesson, and with the added problem of finals hanging over my head, I am no longer promising weekly updates for the time being. I will update as soon as I can, and while it will take a while for the next few chapters to be posted due to schedule, I will get them to you as soon as I can. Once again, I'm So sorry for the ridiculously late chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: see first chapter
> 
> Warnings: see first chapter
> 
> on another note, I cannot for the life of me get the formatting properly, so no bold or italic text. I will figure it out one of these days, so help me. I apologize for the confusion of layout, Dean's thoughts and emphasized words are supposed to be italics.

Carefully glancing around the corner in the hallway leading to Zenesre's office, Dean wondered again how he had managed to end up as the one to play bait for the remaining two sentries. Oh yeah, he thought. I volunteered.

It was obvious that neither Bobby or Ellen trusted Gordon well enough to send him to draw the demons towards their trap, and Dean wouldn't stand for one of the two older hunters going.

So here I am.

Dean could see the two demon possessed men making soft conversation by the closed door of the office, and he ducked back around the corner, mentally going back over their plan. Gordon and Bobby had drawn another key of Solomon in one of the side rooms branching off the main hallway, and Dean needed to get the demons there without alerting Zenesre. Easier said than done.

Ducking back behind the wall, Dean took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Showtime.

He walked a few paces down the hallway and ducked silently into a small, unkempt side room. Looking around for a moment, he picked up a decent sized chunk of fallen plaster. Moving into the hall once again with his chosen projectile in hand, he made his way down the hall to the where the next branch in the passage was. The room the other hunters were waiting in was another two turns down a side hall off to the left of where the main hall split. Taking another deep breath, Dean briefly tested the weight of the plaster he carried, then slung it towards the end of the hall where the demons were stationed. It bounced off the far wall with a dull thump and rebounded onto the hallway floor. A moment later, one of the sentries appeared.

As soon as he was sure that the demon was alerted, Dean took off towards where the other hunters waited, making sure that his footsteps were loud enough to be followed. He slid to a stop when he reached the specified side room, pausing briefly to confirm that his pursuers would get a glimpse of room he ducked into.

As he entered the smaller space, Dean did a quick check of where everyone was. Bobby was positioned behind the door, with the demon killing knife gripped tightly in his hand. Ellen had stowed herself away behind an old filing cabinet, with her sawed-off keeping her company. It took a moment longer for Dean to spot Gordon, the man had managed to scrounge up a fairly large section of old drywall, which he had turned into a kind of protective wall.

"Get in here dammit!" Bobby hissed softly, waving Dean over to where Gordon was hidden.

Taking the hint, Dean scrambled behind the sheet of drywall just as the first demon entered the room.  
Bobby sprung into action, appearing suddenly behind the demon with Dean's knife at the ready. He sank the blade into the creature's lower back, clapping his other hand over its mouth and dragging it backward. As the reddish sparks signifying the demon's death danced through the hosts body, Bobby let the demon slide to the floor soundlessly.

A brief moment later, cautious footsteps were heard. "Eza?" A voice hissed, "Eza, what's going on?"

If we play this right and get lucky we could finish this up without an exorcism. Dean mused. If we can take this SOB out like the last one, it'd sure as hell make it easier on us.

A quick glance at the other hunters told Dean all he needed to glean that their thoughts were moving in the same direction.

Bobby had positioned himself out of sight behind the door again when the demon spoke, and the other hunters shrunk farther back into their respective hiding places. A moment later, the second demon entered the room slowly, moving suspiciously through the doorway.

Dean, who wasGoing to do this with out having to stumble through Latin if at all possible, Dammit, shifted slightly, consciously making just enough sound that it would draw the demons attention away from the side of the room where Bobby was. Black eyes flickered over to the corner where he and Gordon were settled, and Dean could feel a heated glare coming from the hunter next to him. Asshole, Dean thought, a bit spitefull. As his familiarity with Gordon increased, Dean's dislike of the man increased as well.

Dean's thought process was interrupted by the the demon taking a few steps further into the room, and unfortunately noticing the devil's trap carefully painted on the crumbling ceiling panels.

"Hunters," the thing spat, it's eyes flicking black angrily. One of it's hands flung up and towards the symbol, and a jagged crack appeared through the middle, effectively disabling it. Swinging around towards where Dean and Gordon were hidden, the demon contorted it's hand into a sort of claw, and swept it to the side.

Unfortunately for the hunters, the drywall panel they were hiding behind followed the motion of the creature's wrist, and it was violently dragged away from them. Dean and Gordon were now uncovered and face to face with a very pissed off demon.

His eyes flicking nervously to where Ellen and Bobby were still unnoticed on the other side of the room, Dean managed to crack a lopsided grin despite his apprehension. He often felt that when facing down angry hell-spawn with only ineffective weapons at his disposal. Damn, he wanted the comforting weight of his knife in his fist. "Hey asshat, how you doin'?" he said, "Sorry about your friend, but uh, we had a disagreement."

It was painfully obvious that Dean was stalling, and it showed on the demon's progressively darkening face. However, whatever the demon had to say in reply was cut off in a choked sounding gurgle, and the tip of Dean's knife glinted from where it had suddenly sprouted from the demon's neck.

As the thing's corpse thudded to the grungy floor, Bobby stared down at it impassively. "Damn shame,' he muttered,"you two were just startin' to get cozy."

"Aw shut up Bobby," Dean groused, though there was no heat in his words. "Now give me my freaking knife."

The older man chuckled and bent down, wiping the red-dripping blade on the dead demon's shirt. "Yeah yeah, whatever." Straightening, he flipped the knife over and held it out to Dean, handle towards the younger hunter. "Let's get going, we still got one more nasty sumbitch to get rid of."

________

Cold. that was the first thing his muddled mind registered as his eyes blinked open. of course, it was always cold down here. He had trouble remembering the time before the creatures came and brought him here. Opening his eyes didn't do much for him, it was too dark. The handlers must have shut of the lights while he was sleeping. He slept a lot.

Shivering, he huddled farther into himself and felt a soft blanket of down instinctively shift tighter around him. As he curled up under the relative warmth, he felt a slight change in the energy signatures coming from above. He could feel them, becoming agitated and moving around. A few moments later, several of them disappeared abruptly, one after the other.

That had never happened before, and the sudden change in routine caused fear to creep into his thoughts. His eyes felt heavy though, he couldn't think straight, and he blearily wondered that, if he could get his bindings off, if he could just get free of the cuffs, then maybe he could think, maybe he could do something other than sleep. But even as this road of thought passed through his mind, it left just as quickly, and his last lucid observation before falling under the powerful influence of sleep was that, thankfully, he was a little warmer now than when he had first woken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, my sincere apologies for my lack of a timely update. I'll have the next chapter up as soon as I can. Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think if you would be so kind as to take the time!


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well hey look who has managed to crawl out of the pit to bring you this long, long overdue chapter! Seriously, it's been what, almost a month?! there's really no excuse for that, so I hope you'll be somewhat sated by this measly scrap of word-vomit. This is gonna be a two-part chapter, just a heads up.
> 
> Special thanks to all my commenters , who have been great about dropping me lifelines and reminding me I have a responsibility to all my readers.
> 
> Disclaimer:see first chapter
> 
> Warnings: see first chapter

Dean knelt in front of the office door, digging his lock picks out of his jacket pocket. Bobby, Ellen, and Gordon stood behind him, shotguns at the ready to blow away anything that could potentially be lying in wait behind the door. Taking a deep breath, he started fiddling with the lock.

After a few seconds of carefully manipulating the picks, Dean heard a telltale click signaling that his efforts had been successful. "Alright," he said softly, tucking his lock picks back into their spot and getting to his feet. "Let's get this started."

Slipping his handgun from the waistband of his jeans, Dean rolled his shoulders and positioned himself between Bobby and Gordon. He glanced around to make sure that the other hunters were ready. Getting nods from Bobby and Ellen and an eyebrow cocked from Gordon,he settled his nerves and kicked open the door.

As the hunters burst dramatically into the room, they were surprised to find themselves faced with, not an ill-prepared and un-expecting adversary as they had initially thought, but a figure siting calmly behind an old desk. It was a middle-aged woman with slightly graying hair who could have easily been a small town librarian or grade school teacher. All in all, she looked completely harmless. A rather unusual host for a high powered demon. Zenesre gave them a precursory glance before delving into the desk and pulling out what looked like several old

"Dean Winchester," the woman said, looking up from some files she had been flipping through. "I thought you might come to visit sooner or later."

Dean opened his mouth to reply, but found that he couldn't speak. A quick attempt to move told him that the rest of him was immobilized as well as his vocal chords. Going by the fact that none of the others had said anything or moved yet, Dean figured that they were likely facing similar problems. At this point he was just glad he could still breath. Dammit.

A slight smile appeared on Zenesre's mouth. "Settle down Winchester," she continued in a clipped tone of voice, "I couldn't have you or any of you hunters disrupting my business. Honestly, I'm rather surprised none  
of you picked up on my location sooner." She chuckled, "It seems your kind has been slipping when it comes to unreported activities.

"Anyways," She continued, setting a few more files on the surface if the desk and thumbing through them. "I'm afraid I can't exactly kill you..." She paused and thought for a moment, looking completely unconcerned about the four hunters standing in front of her. "You see, I need you to do something for me Winchester."

Dean finally managed to find his voice. "Like I'd do anything for you, bitch!"

Zenesre sighed and pursed her lips, looking at the hunters and appearing every bit like a disapproving parent. "There's really no call for that attitude," she said, waving a manicured hand flippantly. "You don't even know what it is yet. The least you could do is hear out my proposition."

Attempting to snap back at the demon again, Dean found his voice once again shriveling up before it could escape his mouth.

"No interruptions, Winchester. I'm not through talking."

Fuck. Dean wanted to growl at the antagonizing mannerisms of the demon, but he couldn't. It was an increasingly frustrating and, quite frankly, humiliating situation. However, as he glanced around at the other hunters, a short and untimely burst of satisfaction ran through him when he managed to lay eyes on Gordon. The man looked completely outraged at being so blatantly ignored. Bobby just looked plain outraged. Dean couldn't see Ellen from his current position.

The demon got up from her seat and tucked the files she had been looking at under her arm. "Now, there's a specific job I had in mind for you." She walked towards the still-immobilized hunters as she spoke, heels clicking as she strode across the old concrete floor. "I need you to take care of my little half-breed... I'm sure you've been planning on 'cataloging' my pets, or whatever it is that your Association is calling it now."

Dean noticed that the demon's hold seemed to be weakening as she became distracted with her monologue. He started trying to move without being noticed, slowly adjusting his grip on his gun and running over an exorcism in his head.

"I'm assuming you will be disposing of most of them, however, I must request that you resist killing my hybrid. He's something of a favorite of mine, and I have a very important task for him later..." The demon smiled again, a dark, unsettling sight on the host' lips. " He has a very special part to play, so I want you take care of him for me, I'm afraid he's in rather bad shape at the moment."

What the hell is she even saying?... Dean's finger twitched on the trigger. He could probably fire now.

"Well," Zenesre went on, waving a hand, now that that's all settled, I'll be taking my leave."

Taking her leave? The Hell she is, I haven't even gotten two words in!

It was unfortunately at that moment that Zenesre glanced at where Dean's finger was tightening on the trigger, frowning. "That's a bit of a rusty move, I'm afraid."

Dean found himself suddenly shoved through the air, and before he could process what was happening, his back had hit the wall and the breath was knocked from his lungs.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean snarled as he was slammed, for a second time, into the wall. "Could you be /any/ more unoriginal for a demon?"

"Well if it's originality you want, Winchester," Zenesre said with a poisonous grin, "I'm afraid you may have to wait. I've always been a believer in efficiency, and this works splendidly. I'm afraid I just can't leave any of you awake to hinder my progress. Your pet angels have done more than enough of that already." As the female demon finished her monologue, she flicked her hand, Dean's head found the wall again, and his world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that I promised some real Sam in this chapter, but I also promised this chapter a lot sooner. So, as I said earlier, I'm making this a two-parter! Sam will for sure be largely present in the next half of this. please don't kill me. Or please kill me. I'm not sure which one I'm begging for right now. Maybe both. Any-who, The next bit should be up soon, if not tomorrow then Thursday. I have it mostly written I just need to finish it and then edit. Once I've got the next chapter after that one up I'll probably add that one onto this one.
> 
> Comments and kudos are fuel for my muse, so I'd seriously appreciate anything you may have to say. Feedback keeps me going!
> 
> Thanks again for putting up with me!


	8. Chapter 6.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright here's the next bit of the chapter. I'ts definitely not going to be everything you've hoped and dreamed, mostly due to the fact that I had to re-do the majority of this section (apparently I don't write as well as I think I do at three in the morning) and the rest simply isn't ready to be posted. So i guess I lied again. There is a tid-bit of Sam here though... I guess this chapter and the last will just have to remain short and seemingly pointless for a bit. Sadly no real plot is discussed here, but it's sort of a second intro to the upcoming section. Anyways, I'm done making my sad excuses, and I'll let you get to it.
> 
> SO sorry for the wait- I really am getting quite ridiculous with this.... For slightly more timely updates, you can find me over on ff.net.

Dean groaned as he came to, something batting at his face annoyingly. He swatted at it, trying to push his head further into his pillow, only to find nothing but concrete underneath him. Eyes coming open quickly, he raised his head off the floor, finding Bobby hovering over him.

"You alright son?" The older hunter asked, eyeing him for injuries.

"Yeah..." Dean muttered slowly, pushing Bobby's hand away as the man tried to touch his head, no doubt searching for a concussion. "Head hurts. Wha'happened?" He asked muzzily, trying to recall exactly what had gone down.

Bobby frowned and- _was that embarrassment on his face?_ \- opened his mouth to answer, only to clamp it shut in irritation as he was cut off by Gordon.

"We got thrown around like a couple of half-assed beginners who couldn't fight their way out'a a wet paper bag!"

_Yes_ , Dean thought, grimacing tightly as the man's angry words only adding to his headache, _that's obviously Gordon_.

"What the hell Winchester,"the man continued, practically spitting with rage and injured pride."None of us were prepared for that!"

Bobby turned from his position where he was still crouched over Dean, glaring at the irate hunter critically. "Shut it Gordon!" He snapped, "Of course we damn well weren't prepared for that! We didn't have enough information, hell, we're lucky we got off with our asses intact! Now quit your yappin' and help Ellen get the books from the truck so we can catalog the damn critters in the basement before I kick your ass!" 

When Bobby was done barking at the other hunter, he turned back to Dean. Clearly dismissed, Gordon hunched his shoulders and slunk away, grumbling.

"You alright?" Bobby asked, still hovering like a worried hen.

Dean sat up, waving the older hunter away and looking around. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine... So, what happened exactly?"\

Bobby grabbed Dean's arm and pulled him to his feet. "Well, the damn demon put us all out'a commission and has disappeared to God knows where. Ellen was the first one to wake up, and she made sure the rest of us hadn't kicked it." The man ran a hand wearily down his grizzled face and sighed. "The demon may be gone, but there's still all sorts of shit we need to sort out downstairs. I went down there just for a look and the place is full of uglies stuffed into cells."

"Damn," Dean muttered. "How many?"

"'Dunno. I didn't exactly stick around to count, came back up here pretty quick."

"Right. Well, uh, so what's our plan for cataloging this one? I don't think the Association is gonna be too happy to hear about how this demon's little operation went on under our noses for so long." Dean moved out of the office, going to stand in the run-down hallway to wait for Ellen and Gordon to get back with the books.

Bobby followed, leaning against one of the walls, and adjusting his cap before crossing his arms. "I'd be fine with the Association never stickin' their nose into this mess, but they've already been notified about our little job here, so we're stuck having to deal with the log book. Damn Association and their rules..." This last part wasn't much more than a disgruntled mutter, and Dean grinned.

The whole hunting scheme had definitely been simpler before the government had gotten involved. The so called "Association for Regulation and Dispatch of Supernatural Entities and Occurrences", _What was with the government and their tendency to name stuff like that, seriously_ , had been formed after the world's brush with the Apocalypse. Better known as just "The Association" by those in the hunting crowd, the new branch of government and the regulations it brought were generally something of a sore spot for hunters. Most of them weren't the type to take orders from someone else and like it. But, now that the supernatural and hunting had been publicly exposed, there really wasn't much to be done about that. Now that the Association was responsible for hunters, those in power also took it upon themselves to not only regulate the hunters, but also the hunted. This new practice left hunters to deal with mounds of paperwork as well as the actual hunt. Something called Cataloging was one of the more despised of the things hunters now had to do as was required by law. Cataloging consisted of checking the governments new monster database to make sure the entity being hunted was actually dangerous, and it wasn't, it was released. If it was dangerous, it was killed, and anything left over had to be burned. Of course, regardless of weather or not the creature was dangerous, the date and transcript of the interactions needed to be written up and turned into the Association. The number of baddies, how they were taken care of, and clean-up process all had to be recorded.

Now that their embarrassingly short confrontation with Zenesre was over, Dean and his companions needed to do some filing. Ellen and Gordon returned shortly, each carrying a thick binder full of blank creature profiles and transcripts that needed to be filled out. "Alright," Ellen drawled, stopping in front of the two men with a binder held in the crook of her arm. "Let's get this show on the road. Bobby, lead the way."

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Waking with a start, he blearily registered that there were now only four energy signatures left on the floor upstairs. None of them were the ones he was used to either. They were tinged a bluish color, standing out against the dark greys and black that dominated his vision. It wasn't always like this, he mused, he could see normally as well, granted that the lights were on. When it was to dark for his eyes to see normally and he wanted to see, he could sense where things were. It was nice, it gave him warnings as to when the handlers were approaching. These signatures weren't like the handler's, they were streaked with soft blues while the handler's were a dull red, and the four that were now steadily making their way downward didn't give him the same sick feeling. As the little blots of color drew closer and got larger, he felt feathers shifting apprehensively behind him. He wished they'd go away. None of this would have happened if they hadn't showed up. he felt his eyes beginning to close slowly. The lights were still off. The handler's weren't around. He could sleep some more._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there's that. I hope you enjoyed my meager offering enough to give me some feedback, I may not reply to anything right away, but I'll due my best. Once again, I apologize for my lack of good writing conduct and being completely ridiculous with the updates.
> 
> thanks for putting up with me! (really, I mean it)


	9. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hey, look who's back. Once again I have failed miserably in trying to give you people a timely update. Maybe someday. Anyways, the usual excuses aside, life crept up on me and decided to poison me with a crippling bout of writer's block- and... I have done the unspeakable and began preparation for another story. oops. So that might slow things down over here a bit. But I promise, this story is not, and will not be, abandoned.
> 
> Special thanks to all my beloved reviewers!

The basement was pretty much how Bobby had first described it. It was dark, and the hunters had to spend a few moments waiting for Bobby to relocate the light switch. Due to the lack of visibility, the first thing Dean noticed about the basement was the smell. Bobby definitely hadn't mentioned  _that_. It was some hellish musk that couldn't seem to make up it's mind about whether or not it wanted to be the metallic smell of blood, or the musty stench of a wet werewolf.

Dean mouth quirked briefly in a grin as a loud curse from Bobby rang out, accompanied by the clatter of something being knocked over. The younger hunter turned his head towards where Bobby could be heard muttering irately for a moment before a heavy click resounded through the hall, followed by the clicks of lights protesting life and gradually bringing the hall to light.

With the harsh light of about 20 artificial suns beating down on everything, the hallway full of cages looked like some washed out scene from an old B-grade horror movie. The glare from the concrete walls and flooring made the ache in Dean's temples intensify, making him squint and grimace.

"You alright boy?" Ellen asked, coming up beside him and watching him carefully.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just a headache. Nothing to worry about, it'll pass."

She eyed him for another moment before nodding and turning her gaze to the hallway.

 _It looks like a prison_ , Dean mused as he looked down the hall. Solid metal doors were set at intervals into the walls on either side of the passage, a few of them standing open, but most were shut securely. From where the hunters were grouped in the small open area near the base of the stairway, Dean could see that all the doors were equipped with a heavy deadbolt and a locked chain. They had a small window slat in the middle, and a grate at the bottom. Dean stuck with his initial impression.  _Prison._

After the area was lit and it was deemed safe to proceed, they got started. Bobby was working with Dean, following behind him with the forms, flashlight and a pen, while Dean was opening the cells and dealing with whatever was inside. Gordon and Ellen were working in the same way, taking care of the cells on the other side of the hall.

It was immediately apparent after opening several doors that something wasn't right.

* * *

Dean really hated this job so far.

A Skin-Walker, a Werewolf, two Sprites, and a couple of Harpies later, Dean and Bobby were nearly done with their half of the basement. So far, all of the creatures had either been dead or clearly dying, and everyone was starting to feel uncomfortable with dispatching the unresisting baddies.

Dean had heard Gordon complaining to Ellen about the "Lack of sport" in it, and if the complaint wasn't disturbing enough in itself, it was  _Gordon_  complaining. Gordon complaining about having to kill things. Which, to Dean's knowledge, and, drawing from his words, apparently the man agreed, was a completely new and absurd concept for the man.

"The moron's complaining about having to complain about killing these poor snots," Bobby grumbled when Dean mentioned it, watching the hunter in question with a rather disdainful look. "I've never heard a man whinin' so much about not getting to kill things while they're up and kicking. Hell, most'd just be glad it made their job easier..." He broke off with a grimace. "The man's a real hard-ass, I'll give him that."

Dean rolled his eyes as he helped Bobby fill out the forms for the Harpies. The motion made the dull ache eating away at his skull intensify. "You sound like it wasn't you who called him in the first place," he huffed.

"Yeah, well," Bobby retorted gruffly, "I'm about to shoot the damn idgit myself if he won't shut up soon."

Dean huffed, a slight grin pulling at his mouth before wrenching open the next door. "Ugh," He complained, wrinkling his nose as he pulled one of the doors open. "It smells like a dead Wendigo or something!" Dean griped, hazarding a look over his shoulder at the other hunter.

Bobby raised an eyebrow and gestured into the cell with the pen he had been using to fill out forms."I'm pretty sure that's what it is, ain't it?"

Dean turned back to the cell and groaned. "Damn," he muttered, stuffing his handgun back into the waistband of his jeans. He wouldn't be needing it for this one. "You know you've been in the business too long when you can tell the difference between things without lookin' at them, even when their dead..."

Taking the bag Bobby offered him, He dug through it for a moment, retrieving a box of salt and some kerosine. After dousing the creature's body in a healthy coating of salt and fuel, he reached into his jacket to find his matches, then dropping one onto the Wendigo. He made sure that the thing was well and truly on its way to becoming an ash pile before popping back out into the hall and slamming the door behind him. Locking it again, he looked around at Bobby, who had just finished filling in the form. The other hunter was tapping his pen on the papers, looking at Dean with one scruffy eyebrow raised.

"What?"

The older man cracked a smile. "Just watchin' you run from a little smell like some little girl."

"Hey!" Dean protested, "just because  _my_  olfactory system hasn't rotted away from old age-"

Dean stopped himself, cut off by one of Bobby's most powerful glares. He offered the man a sheepish grin and glanced across the hall at Gordon and Ellen. "How's it coming along over there?"

Ellen turned her head from where she was filling out a form and brushed some hair away from her face. "Not much yet. Mainly bodies. A few werewolves were movin' around a bit, but that's all. Didn't look like they'd been well taken care of."

"Yeah, Dean just took care of a Wendigo, and it didn't look to good either," Bobby chipped in. "Body didn't seem too old though. Couldn't'a been more than a couple days ago that the thing kicked the bucket."

Ellen nodded. "The poor critters in here died maybe a week ago." She grimaced. "I made Gordon go in without me."

Bobby rolled his eyes, then flipped to a new form in his binder. "Who wouldn't?" The older hunter muttered, adjusting his greasy ball cap and looking down the row at the remaining two doors. "Alright boy," he said, nudging Dean. "back to work."

Dean was just about to check the last cell in the row when a startle yell came from across the hall.

* * *

_He stared at the door from where he had planted himself in the corner. Two of them were coming closer. He knew from when the handler's moved him that his cell was at the end of the row, and these two things were coming directly towards him. They had already looked through the others on this side of the hall, and he knew that, whatever they were, they had probably killed everything else they had come across. Judging by the sounds he had heard, anyways._

_Gunshots, following soon after the creaking of doors signaled the opening of a cell. The smell of smoke became gradually stronger._

_He sneezed, the sound echoing in the small space of his cell. The footsteps of the two beings outside the door of his little haven faltered._  
 _His shackles clinked softly as he pressed his spine against the wall when the bolt on the door slid back._  
 _The door swung open and a figure stepped in, blocking most of the light filtering into the cell._

_The figure,_ human _, his mind supplied, chose that moment to reload the pistol hanging from its hands, but the clip slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor. The sharp metallic sound of the fallen clip rang painfully through the small concrete space, causing both beings in the cell to flinch. Jerking involuntarily, one of the dark masses at his back fluttered suddenly. He felt it colide with something and immediately pulled it tight against his body._

"Face full of-"

 _The figure,_  human, _he muddily thought again, sputtered loudly and then-_

_Oh._

_There were more of them now, loud words falling from their mouths and dripping away before his mind could catch them. Lights in his face and more loud exclamations, and those dark, rustling feathers came curling around him like an instinct, until he couldn't see anything else._

* * *

Dean heard Gordon spit.

"Fuckin'  _feathers_!" The man cried, waving his now-loaded gun at the occupant of the cell. "What the hell even  _is_  that?!"

"Calm your ass down boy!" Bobby snapped at the raging as he shoved him back and entered the cell himself, pulling out the flashlight and thrusting his binder at Gordon. "Let's take a look here," he muttered, flicking the light on and directing the beam at the shifting mass in the corner. "What the-"

Dean pushed into the cell and looked over the older man's shoulder, his gun drawn and ready.

A humanoid face, streaked with muck,  _and was that dried blood_ , was visible for a second, wide hazel eyes skittishly fixed on the hunters before they were covered by a shifting mass of large... Wings? "Bobby, what the hell is this thing?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's chapter 7! hope you guys enjoyed. Chapter 8 will be up as soon as it's finished, and now that I have motivation, the wait should be shorter.
> 
> If you have the time, please do hit that wonderful little button and leave me any questions, comments, or concerns you might have.
> 
> The other little buttons down there are also much appreciated!
> 
> Feedback keeps me breathing


	10. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has come to my attention that I have managed to catapult myself directly into "legendary" status as far as my regularity (or rather lack thereof) in updating. So, I'll just let you guys have it without the usual rambling apology.

Dean stared blankly at the thing in the corner, his trained hand keeping his gun steady despite his whirling thoughts.  _Harpy?_   _No, not enough_  bird  _in its features_... The large wings had killed most of what limited visual Dean had on the creature, but he resolutely glared at the dark feathering anyways. He couldn't think of many creatures that possessed avian wings paired with a very humanoid face and body. None at all, actually.

One of the feathery masses twitched and Dean caught another glance at the thing's face. Tangled hair that looked to be about the same color as the  _pinions? Is that what the big flight feathers are?_  framed a face that seemed too thin, large slanted eyes and smudges of old dirt only furthering the lean definition of cheekbones and a sharp jawline. Then the flash of pale skin was gone again, dissolving back behind the apparent safety of those huge wings.

The brief look was more than enough for Dean to glean that the creature was pretty terrified whatever it was, and by the way those massive appendages kept shifting minutely to allow a small gap to form in the dark shield, slightly curious. He wondered for the umpteenth time what the thing was. He'd never had a confrontation with a creature that was able to convey so much emotion through sparse glances and the agitated shifting of some huge-ass wings.

He pushed his confusion back as the makings of yet another heated argument caught his ear.

"…Have to get rid of the damn thing, we have no idea what it might be capable of!"  _Ah. That would be Gordon._

"We can't just go in guns a'blazing like we used to, Walker," _Ellen_ , Dean registered, eyeing the creature in the corner warily, _the ever-present voice of reason._  "Nowadays we have to consider what the Administration will do if they get wind of this..."

"Well who's gonna know?" Gordon barked, waving his pistol around a bit more than was usual for a hunter of his caliber. "That thing could be dangerous, hell, undoubtedly  _is_  dangerous! We've never seen anything like it before, and you want to drag it along for the assholes who don't know a damn thing about monsters to poke and prod at so it can do God knows what-"

"Walker!" Bobby snapped, "shut your damn mouth before I blow your balls off! Ellen's right in at least wanting to check the thing out before we do anything." He ignored Gordon's increasingly heavy glare and continued before the other man could interrupt. "Now I don't fancy extra paperwork any more than you, so if it turns out dangerous, we can just off the damn thing and go on our way. If not, we'll let it go. That's it." He glanced Dean's way, then towards Ellen, raising one grey eyebrow. "You good with that?"

"No-" Gordon started acidly, only to be gruffly rolled over by a snap from Bobby again.

"Shu'dup Walker! I wasn't askin' you."

Dean stifled a wry twitch of his mouth and simply grunted an affirmative, which Ellen followed with a nod. Bobby dipped his head in a clipped way, reaching up to impulsively twitch the brim of his cap. "Good," the experienced man said, "Then that's all there is too it. Ellen, can you take care of that last cell across the hall and then run the books up to the trucks?"

Gordon was livid, both at the blatant disregard to his opinions and of himself. "Wait just a damn minute," he hissed. "If you morons want to get yourselves killed by asking questions first, I've got no obligations to follow you in your stupidity! You've shot me down on every turn and hell, I don't even know why you picked up the fuckin' phone to call me if you weren't gonna treat me like a fellow hunter and not some stand-offish greanleaf! As of now," he continued, glaring at Bobby in a way that probably could have curdled cheese," I'm off this case. I'll be expecting my fourth of the pay when this shit is over and take my word, if I don't get it, there's gonna be hell to pay." When he was finished, Gordon turned on his heel and, in a petty fit of what he probably thought was good measure, spat over his shoulder.

"Hey Walker," Bobby called, his mouth twisting as the mans final parting gift met the ground dangerously close to his boot. "If you're ever in a fix like that one last summer, don't bother calling me."

Dean had to give Gordon credit for not responding to that as his footsteps were heard recessing along the narrow hall.

Bobby let out a long sigh and ran a hand along his bristly jaw. "Can you take care of the books Ellen?" He asked slowly, his tone rather exhausted.

"Sure," Ellen replied smoothly, immediately taking up Bobby's binder from where it had been displaced and tucking it under her free arm. "Back in a minute boys," she said, stepping out of the cell. "I'll make sure Gordon's left the building too."

"Thanks Ellen."

One of the large wings still furled in the shadows twitched, and Dean's attention immediately snapped from their conversation back to the creature. He realized that the thing had actually managed to worm itself farther into the corner while the hunters had been arguing.  _Huh._

"Well, now that that ass-hat is gone, maybe we can get something done," Bobby muttered grouchily.

Humming, Dean glanced at him. "So now what?" He questioned.

Bobby stepped a little closer. "Now," he drawled matter-of-factly, "we figure out what the hell this is."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "How exactly do you want to go about that?" He asked, rather sarcastically. "Silver? Some holy water maybe?"

Snorting, Bobby shot the younger man an irritated glare and then turned his gaze back to the creature. The flashlight beam illuminated a small circle, maybe eight inches across. Bobby shook it and fiddled with the focus, but it didn't help much. "Damn..." He groused under his breath. "It's looking like we may have to get it upstairs before we do anything else... The light in here ain't worth shit, and the hall is too narrow to really get a good look at everything."

Dean nodded, sizing the creature up warily. It didn't  _look_  like it was gonna try anything, and his gun hand was beginning to stiffen from being held in the same position, so he slowly lowered the weapon. "We gonna wait for Ellen?"

The older man thought for a moment before answering. "Nah. The thing's already got cuffs on it, and they look like they've been engraved with some kind of runes. Going by the way it hasn't tried anything, those're probably keeping it contained, so if we're careful, we can probably move it without too much trouble."

Frowning slightly, Dean flipped the safety on his pistol and tucked it into his waistband. He'd need both hands to move this thing. Glancing at the older hunter, he took notice of the still-testy look on Bobby's face. The man was shifting his weight impatiently.

Dean himself didn't know if trying to move it without Ellen's assistance was the right thing to do in a situation like this, so he simply gave a mental shrug and hopped Bobby's residual irritation wouldn't cause problems. Stepping around to the side to scope out how they might want to get a grip on the creature, his attention was inescapably drawn to it's wings.

The large feathery masses practically covered everything.  _Damn, are they big_. He thought he had heard something somewhere about an adult swan being able to break a man's arm with just the force it took for flight. He didn't even want to think about what one of these wings might be able to do to the human body if it got to flailing in the small space. They might have to at least restrain those, if not the entire creature.

"Hey Bobby?"

"Yeah Dean."

"What're we gonna do with...you know," he gestured at it, "the wings. Aren't they gonna be pretty dangerous if this thing starts flailing?

Bobby hummed. "Tell you what, see if you can't run up and catch Ellen on her way out. I've got a couple tie-downs under the back seat in my truck," He fished his keys from his jacket pocket and tossed them to Dean. "Have Ellen bring two or three down when she comes back. We can wait to move it 'til we have those taken care of."

Dean caught the keys with a slight jingle and deposited them into his own pocket. He nodded, and with one last glance at the form across the small cell, trotted out and towards the stairs. The basement ceiling was partially obscured by thin wisps of smoke drifting from the cracks in the doors lining the hall.

He sighed once before turning to to the dark stairwell and taking the metal steps two at a time. Ellen was already at least one floor above, and he didn't want to have to run through the entire complex again.

* * *

 _Through another shy glance stolen from between the living walls of feathers, he saw the one in a leather jacket catch something flashy that was tossed from the other's hands. It fell into his grasp with a slight chinking sound, and a few more indistinct words were exchanged before it -_ he _\- left._

_Now he was left alone with the one in the hat. He stole another look out from between his wings. This one was just standing there, seemingly unthreatening. There was a light in his hands and a gun at his waist, though it wasn't pointed at him now. He remembered foggily how the one one that had just left had also tucked away his weapon._

_Nothing much happened for a few long moments. He thought they were long. He wasn't sure, there was no way to tell with his mind kept so consistently hazy. A slight twinge sent a shudder down through his wing, sending the feathers rustling together with a sound like soft paper._

_The one with the hat jumped and his hand shot towards the gun at his hip._

Guns are danger _, he thought, getting vague impressions of a small scar near his ribcage. He had met guns before in this place, sometimes the weaker handlers had carried them. Shoulders twitching_ _again, he pressed back as the other one appeared abruptly back in the room and his spine dug into the concrete wall behind him._

* * *

Dean bounced back into the room just as Bobby's hand met the grip of his pistol. The older man glanced sharply at Dean as he entered, then sighed and pulled his hand up to scratch at his neck. Raising an eyebrow, Dean looked down pointedly at the gun. "Itchy trigger finger?"

Bobby huffed. "Fool thing moved a bit quick for my liking. The wings are a bit.. Unnerving."

Dean hummed in response. "Well, Ellen should be on her way back down. Did I miss anything?" Shifting his eyes back towards the creature in the corner told him that it was, in fact,  _still_  in the corner. He thought he'd seen it move just as he re-entered the musty cell, but it certainly hadn't gone far if it had been making for somewhere other than where the two dingy walls met.

"Not really," Bobby grunted. "Hasn't been that long since you left."

Dean nodded. "I figure we got a good three, maybe four minutes to wait for Ellen and those tie-downs. There anything we can do on our end?"

Thinking a moment before he answered, Bobby shifted his weight and the hand that wasn't occupied by the flashlight twitched nervously. He glanced down at it briefly and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. "Well... I guess we could  _try_  to get it moving into the hall. If we could get it through the door, there's less width in the hall for it to flap around if it starts struggling."

"So if we could get it to the hall, it might be easier to trap it's wings to get them secured."

"Right." Bobby studied the motionless mass across the cell, and Dean thought he may have seen the reflective glint of a pair of eyes peeking out at them from the shadows cast by the weak beam of Bobby's light.

"On the other hand," the older hunter continued, "We ourselves would also have less room to work with out in the hall. I'd say we have about four extra feet on either side to move around in if we stick to the cell."

Dean shook his head a little. "I don't really want to risk getting my neck snapped by Big Bird over there any more than I have too. I say we wait for Ellen and just see if we can get the tie-downs onto it without moving it. That way we don't have to risk messing with it any more than we need too."

A voice came from the doorway, causing them to turn their heads to where Ellen had just stepped into sight. "I'd agree with Dean on this one," she said, holding out three coiled blue straps of heavy canvas.

Bobby's mouth twitched upwards. "Then we have our plan. Thanks for grabbin' those Ellen."

The woman nodded and tossed the tie-downs to Dean. Catching them, he gave them a good once over. Made of strong material, they were about three inches wide, and each strap had a metal winch spanning one end. The loose end could be tucked into this and tightened as needed. He guessed they were somewhere around eight feet long.  _Nifty_.

"Alright," Dean muttered, "How do we want to do this? It's going to be a bit tight in here between that thing and the three of us."

Bobby made a slight humming sound in the back of his throat and shared a look with Ellen. When she wasn't forthcoming with any ideas, he turned his eyes back to Dean. "Why don't you leave me and Ellen with one of those each, and see if you can't get around behind it. We'll have an easier time getting it's wings folded up and secured if we can get it to come a little ways away from the wall."

Dean nodded and the tie-downs were distributed as directed. He took a deep breath, made sure his pistol was safe in the back of his waistband and dropped into a slight crouch, holding out his tie-down in what he hoped was a non-threatening way.  _Here goes nothing_...

"Uh...Hey there big guy," he said quietly, beginning to slowly step forward.

* * *

_The one in the leather jacket was coming towards him, edging closer with a wide strap of some sort extended towards him. Shifting skittishly, he felt his feathers begin to flare instinctively, prickling uncomfortably along his skin. Still coming closer, the figure began speaking in a voice that was rough and oddly soothing. Despite the increasingly uncomfortable closeness of the others, the soft, though still unrecognizable words lulled him enough so that his feathers began to flatten once again._

_He shifted his weight against one of the walls rather than back towards their junction, feathers ruffling and then lying flat as his wings slipped away from where they had been stiffly shielding his body and into a more relaxed position. He allowed one of them to drape over him like a blanket and lazily turned his head to watch as they inched closer. Wondering wearily what the oddly familiar looking strap was, he allowed his eyes to slip closed._

* * *

Dean wasn't sure how to feel when the creature's wings slid downward into a more submissive position, revealing a mop of tangled hair and two tired-looking eyes that were blinking sluggishly at him. There was an odd pang in his chest when he realized just how  _human_  this thing really looked.

He kept up his mantra of meaningless chatter in a low tone of voice. "Hey there... I'm uh, just gonna slip in here and wrap this around one of those big-ass wings of yours, yeah?...Ok buddy, here we go..." He inched forward and reached out to swing the end of the strap around the bend of the wing closest to him. His fingers slipped across surprisingly soft feathers as the appendage twitched slightly.

"Alright…" He hazarded a brief sigh of relief. One strap partially around one wing? Check. "Easy there, big guy."

* * *

_Watching the figure carefully slip the strap around his wing, he wondered absently what the point was. His handlers had never done anything like this. When they entered his cell, they simply shoved him to his feet and dragged him to wherever it was they wanted him. However, the strap's material wasn't rubbing his feathers the wrong way and that rumbling monotone he found so strangely relaxing was still going. He felt comparatively safe._

_Then his other wing was jostled unexpectedly, and the blurred impression of safety was gone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies happen now. I don't really want to get into anything, but between school, family junk, and general life being crap, my muse has not been the most cooperative… I won't bore you with any details, but I AM working on the next chapter and will do my damnedest to get it posted soon. By soon, I mean like. within the next week.
> 
> I want to give a special shout out to three AMAZING people. Firstly, my heart goes out to Moriteaparty who has stuck with me through the think and thin and is literally the only reason I ever started writing this crap down anyways huhuh. Then there is the lovely SS, who has been sitting up with me for the past 6 hours to beta this word vomit at 3am and demand more words from me. Both of these guys are absolutely beautiful people and close friends of mine. without them there is no story pretty much period. so. BE GRATEFUL-I know I am.
> 
> last and not at all least, Is LeeMarieJack (over on ff.net) seriously guys, LMJ is my most loyal reviewer and is consistently checking in with me to see how I'm doing with sections. This is SUPER encouraging to me as a writer, and this fandom is blessed to have her.
> 
> another huge thank you to all my readers (and especially those of you who grant me the joy of reviews) and my followers. It really means the world that you guys have stuck with me for so long
> 
> I hope you all have an awesome start to your new year!


	11. APOLOGIES

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Im so so so SO sorry

OOOOOOOOOOOKKKKKAY

wow its been almost 6 months since updating this and first off I want to give a HUGE apology to all of my devoted followers who checked their notifications and thought this was a new chapter.

I also want to apologize that its been so long without an update (I actually have the next chapter written but i lost it sometime in mid-January can you believe my stupidity) 

I'm about 99% sure I can find it with some dedicated digging, and i DO plan on posting it once Ive found and gone over it. 

Lately classes have been taking over my life, and I wont have a lot of time to work on anything for a while since Finals are kicking my ass, but I sorely hope to get something to you all by the end of next week, if not this week. 

this is not a dead story, but Ive got a lot of other projects on my plate right now, so after the next update, it will probably be a while (hopefully not another six months though) before the next installment. I also plan to go back and change, if not rewrite, a lot of the previous chapters.

Thank you guys SO much for sticking with me, every time i look at the comments, subscriptions, and kudos, Im completely floored. As an author, you and your support means the world, especially after so long a break.

Love you guys, and hope you'll bear with me on this one!

PS: I'm working on some other stories that I plan to post when I have more material, so I hope you'll give those a chance when they're up!

Thanks again <3   
Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> Much of whether or not I will continue posting chapters of this story will be decided by feedback: I will definitely be posting several more chapters, and from there on we'll see how it goes. All feedback is appreciated, and I hope you'll drop me a line about how I'm doing.
> 
> ~Thank you!~


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